


threshold of hearing

by keyhun



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyhun/pseuds/keyhun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the daily sounds of changmin's world</p>
            </blockquote>





	threshold of hearing

Changmin doesn’t know too much about how airplanes work—he’s a nineteen year old pop star, not an aeronautical engineer—but he does know that the sound of the plane’s engine rumbling beneath him, if heard at full volume, is 140 decibels, well over the pain threshold of hearing. He ponders this for a moment and takes a second to thank whatever higher entity is listening to his inner thoughts that he has the privilege of being a first class passenger on this plane instead of a laborer who had to help build the beast. 

“What are you thinking about so early in the morning?” Jaejoong grumbles sleepily, taking his seat next to Changmin.

The youngest smirks. “Nothing you’d care about.”

“You’re probably right,” Jaejoong says through a yawn. “Now go to sleep, we’ll be in Japan in an hour.”

“Not sleepy.”

“Suit yourself,” the oldest sighs, and settles in for a nice nap on Changmin’s shoulder.

 

 

 

The next morning, Changmin is woken up by the sound of a jackhammer coming from somewhere outside their apartment. He groans with frustration, having only slept three hours and knowing he’ll be expected to be up and looking tv-ready in two more. 

“Ugh, what the fuck is that noise? Turn it off, Changminnie,” a sleeping Jaejoong mumbles, eyebrows pulled together over closed eyelids.

“Jackhammer. 130 decibels. Just over the pain threshold of hearing. We’ll need earplugs if we go outside or it’ll hurt.”

“Well it’s hurting my head right now, you freak,” Jaejoong responds with no bite, and then tosses an arm around Changmin’s middle and rests his face in the crook of Changmin’s neck. 

“Hmm, you smell good.”

Changmin swallows. “Thanks,” he manages, mouth dry.

 

 

 

They’re piled in the van, half of them passed out, on the way to a recording for something or the other. No one can really keep track anymore.

Jaejoong watches as Changmin dozes, expression so innocent and free of worry in the midst of dreams. He strokes Changmin’s face gently, and kisses his fluttering eyelids. So lovely are his lashes. The boy is beautiful and he has no idea.

A loud HOOOONKKK wakes all the ones who were sleeping with a jolt and a few “HUH?” “WHOOZAT?” “WHERE ARE WE?” and other, more explicit phrases.

“120 decibels,” Changmin mumbles, eyes blinking open and hands rubbing his ears. “Just at the pain threshold.”

Jaejoong smiles and kisses the corner of his mouth, loving how he makes the boy blush. “Go back to sleep, Changminnie.”

“Ah…yes, hyung,” Changmin whispers, too shy to be anything but obedient.

 

 

 

Sometimes, Changmin swears Jaejoong has a death wish. Like now, because Jaejoong is dressing up in his sexiest rocker outfit and putting on more eyeliner than any performance has ever been required of him and chains around his neck, through the loops of his tight, tight jeans and around his wrists as well. He’s got studs in every piercing he has (some of them previously unbeknownst to Changmin) and then dressing the maknae in a very similar fashion with a wild gleam in his eyes.

“Hyung, what the FUCK?” Changmin protests helplessly as Jaejoong forces a sexy v-neck and leather jacket onto Changmin’s body. 

“Stop squirming, Changmin-ah! We’re going to a rock concert tonight.”

“ _We?_ Maybe you are, I never agreed to sneaking out so we could get caught and scolded and fired!”

Jaejoong just rolls his eyes and then admires the way the black fabric compliments Changmin’s developing pectoral muscles. He has such good taste in sexy men’s fashion.

“We’re not going to get caught, Changminnie. Don’t you trust hyung?” 

“No.”

“Ouch.”

“Well...”

“Oh come onnn Changminnie,” Jaejoong whines, stepping into the younger boy’s personal space, and then he knows he’s already won. “Pleeease? It’ll be so fun. We’re going to go see a band that does the kind of singing I’m good at.”

“But you’re good at singing everything?” Changmin squeaks.

Jaejoong squeals with delight at the compliment and wraps him in a big hug. “Why thank you, but we’re going to see a Japanese rock band. You’ll love the lead singer min, oh, his voice is raspy and intense and sexy. Come on I already have tickets!” Jaejoong insists, and pulls out two tickets from his back pocket.

Changmin groans as he inhales the scent of Jaejoong’s alluring cologne.

“Fine, let’s go,” he mutters, defeated.

 

Admittedly, the band is incredible. This is clearly where Jaejoong belongs, if his jumping in time to the music and singing along to the loud, angry lyrics is any indication of that. Changmin knows a few songs and he and Jaejoong rock out together, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and jumping high in the air, shorter fangirls behind them probably hating their guts.

Jaejoong sings along and it’s glorious the way his voice turns and rasps and screams.

 _110 decibels_ Changmin thinks vaguely, as the rock band smashes their instruments and reaches high notes Changmin would have to work to imitate one day. He watches Jaejoong’s eyes gleam with joy and decides maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea coming out after all.

 

 

 

“You don’t wanna spend Christmas with me?” Changmin asks, pouting.

Jaejoong rolls his eyes. “No, I’m sick of you. I miss my family.” Then he smiles, all gorgeous white teeth and twinkling eyes. “I’ll see you in a week, baby.”

Changmin fights a grin but the grin wins and it’s a wide one. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I know, baby.”

Changmin checks Jaejoong’s bag and personal belongings one more time and hands them off. He allows Jaejoong to steal a quick, sweet kiss, and it lingers on his tongue as he watches Jaejoong board the train.

“All aboard!” the conductor calls.

Jaejoong settles in his compartment and waves at Changmin from the window. _Miss you already, baby_ he mouths, and Changmin laughs.

The train engine fires up and Changmin watches with a heavy weight in his chest as Jaejoong grows smaller and fades into the distance. 

Ninety decibels. That’s how loud the sound of his love leaving him in the Seoul snow was.

 

 

 

Several months later, Changmin walks into the living area to find Jaejoong with his hair pinned back, apple style, and clad in Changmin’s tank top and Yoochun’s shorts, jamming along to some music while he cleans the room.

He spots Changmin and his face lights up.

“Changminnie! It’s time for spring cleaning, wanna help hyung?”

“No.”

“Wrong answer!” Jaejoong replies with a huge fake smile, and thrusts a mop into his hands. “Please clean the tiled areas, I’ll vacuum the carpets.”

“Ugh, fiiiineee,” Changmin grumbles, because he’s still a kid after all, and Jaejoong doesn’t mind when he acts like one once in a while.

Jaejoong revs up the vacuum to its full power, all eighty decibels of roaring cleaning machine, and works over the carpeted area of their apartment. Changmin’s mouth goes dry as he watches Jaejoong’s arm muscles work while he pushes and pulls the vacuum back and forth, then scolds himself for being so attracted. He needs to control himself. Unfortunately, Jaejoong makes that quite impossible with his endless allure.

 

 

 

After they’ve finished their chores in the morning, Jaejoong cooks Changmin’s favorite foods for lunch. He’s determined to enjoy their one day off, and Changmin appreciates it more than he can say.

Jaejoong cooks up a storm in the kitchen and Changmin tries to make himself useful by quietly cutting vegetables and cleaning up used utensils and dishes. He’s probably the only person who knows what to do in the kitchen and therefore the only person Jaejoong allows in his cooking space when he works his magic. 

The result is a feast. Kimchi stew, of course, Jaejoong’s staple, and also one of Changmin’s favorites. Rice, stir-fried vegetables, a seafood hotpot and a million and one side dishes. Changmin’s mouth waters.

“Let’s eat and watch a movie,” Jaejoong suggests.

“Can I pick the movie?”

“Of course, baby.”

Changmin blushes when he chooses a Ghibli movie—Castle in the Sky, his favorite—but uses the excuse that it’s to help them learn Japanese. Jaejoong knows they’re all beyond children’s level Japanese at this point but he lets it slide. 

They set up the feast on a tray table in front of the sofa and eat and watch the movie. The volume is at 70 decibels—a comfortable noise. Loud enough that it catches attention, but not too loud that it’s disturbing the peace. 

The others are god knows where, maybe still sleeping, maybe spending their day off outside. Changmin doesn’t really care right now, not when Jaejoong is holding his hand and stroking his thumb across Changmin’s knuckles. He’s made it to heaven. Jaejoong’s spicy-sweet kisses are a confirmation of that.

 

 

 

In the evening of that wonderful, magical day off, the other three come back from wherever they were, and the five of them sit together around their small circular dining table. Conversation flows easier than it has in months.

60 decibels. The volume of conversation. The sound of falling in love all over again as you get to know someone just that much better.

“So I was taking a piss, right? And I noticed…my dick kind of has a weird shape.”

“God, Junsu, not now please. We’re eating,” Jaejoong chides.

“Uh, no, go on, I wanna hear anything and everything you’re willing to tell me about your penis,” Yoochun adds unhelpfully, and Jaejoong shoots him a dazzling, threatening smile that says _get on my nerves and I’ll steal all your cigarettes, bastard_. Changmin feels his heart fall into the bottomless pit that is affection in one fell swoop and can’t be bothered to even try to get it back.

“Hyung, I love you.”

The entire table stills. Jaejoong chuckles and leans forward, ruffles Changmin’s hair. “I love you too, baby.”

Conversation manages to pick back up, goes from sticky staccato beats to smooth, long notes of melodic voices that Changmin loves loves _loves_ and never wants to be apart from.

 

 

 

They’re visiting the company’s office today to discuss further activities and contract terms and more stuff that reminds Changmin he has no control over his own life. He tries to look and act professional but he knows everyone sees him as a child with no knowledge of how this adult business works. They’re not entirely wrong.

Changmin sits in a corner while the other members try to fight for their basic human rights. He doesn’t care anymore—the company can take as much of his soul as it wants. 

He calms himself with the knowledge that this is just an office—just fifty decibels of paper shuffling, suits sliding against leather seats, quiet words that decide the next few months and years—nothing more than that.

 

 

 

Changmin likes libraries. He loves them. He likes to sit in a certain corner of the one at his university that he only has the luxury of attending a few times a month and sip strong coffee and bury his nose in books. And when his head gets too stuffed with new information he likes to look up and gaze out the third floor window that has a fine view of the pond behind the library with ducks and turtles and flowers all around it. The only noises that can be heard are those of people getting up and sitting down and turning pages of books and typing on computers. Just forty decibels. It’s perfect for Changmin.

Jaejoong doesn’t mind libraries either, though not for the same reason as the youngest does. Jaejoong likes libraries because he can walk in dressed as a professor with thick glasses and wool slacks and cream turtlenecks and a grey blazer and not be recognized because everyone is too busy studying to pay close attention. Including Changmin.

“Professor” Kim approaches his student from behind and stoops down low and whispers hot and filthy in his ear “you’ve been a bad student, Mr. Shim, only attending my class once a month. Just who do you think you are?”

Changmin shivers and doesn’t turn around. Jaejoong licks the shell of his ear and reaches under the desk to palm Changmin through his trousers. “You’ll need to be punished.” 

Changmin shuts his books and leads the way to the private study room he’d reserved for the evening.

Jaejoong looks at Changmin coolly, like he’s studying a specimen he’s going to dissect. “Take off your jacket, student Shim.” 

Changmin’s mouth goes dry and he unbuttons his coat slowly, eyes cast downward from shyness that’s seventy-five perfect sincere and twenty-five percent part of the role-play. 

“Your shirt, too.”

The younger boy draws a shaky breath and shoots a glance at the door to make sure it’s been locked. Then he takes off his black t-shirt and drops it to the ground at his feet. 

“Look at me.”

Changmin looks.

“Take off your pants.”

He unbuttons his jeans, then undoes the zipper. He pushes them down past his knees and they pool at his ankles and he steps out of them. All that’s left are his briefs, through which his erection is painfully obvious.

“Get on the desk. Stroke yourself until I tell you to stop.”

Changmin whimpers and follows his professor’s orders. He clambers onto the desk and Jaejoong appreciates the view of his ass. He sits in the center and leans back on one hand and spreads his legs shyly. He reaches down and rubs himself over his briefs slowly, almost as if he’s teasing himself. Then he reaches inside his underwear and takes his sex in his hand, hot and hard and throbbing. He bites back a moan and fights to keep his eyes open as he presses his thumb against the slit—hard. He presses until it’s almost painful and gathers pearly drops of pre-come. 

“P-professor…help,” Changmin gasps.

“Tsk, tsk. You don’t even bother to stop by my office all semester and now just before finals you’re going to ask me for help? I don’t think so, dear student.”

Changmin sobs and then takes his dick out of his briefs and sweeps his hand up and down the hardened length. It thrills him to no end that if he makes one sound too loud he’ll be heard and someone will knock on their door. 

Jaejoong watches calmly, the fire in his eyes hidden behind those thick-rimmed glasses.

Changmin is almost there, hips naturally bucking up into his grip, trying desperately to meet more friction.

“Stop.”

 _No!_ Changmin wants to scream, but he bites his lip hard and tears his hand away. His chest heaves with heavy breaths and his face looks utterly broken. Beads of sweat fall down the sides and his hair sticks to his brow. His cheeks are red as rose petals and his lips are parted and pink from biting.

“Good boy. Very good boy. You deserve a reward for that.”

Jaejoong approaches him slowly and places his hands on either side of Changmin’s narrow hips. He leans his head down and takes Changmin into his mouth.

“Ohhh, _hyung_ I’m—oh…”

“You taste good, Changminnie.”

He looks up at the younger boy from under dark, long lashes and Changmin loses it—he comes long and hard down Jaejoong’s throat and the older male takes it, swallowing until the very last drop.

Later, back in their dorm, Jaejoong will stroke Changmin’s naked chest and kiss his jaw and giggle “I like libraries,” and Changmin will grow embarrassingly hard from just the memory.

 

 

 

The combined noise of doctor’s heeled loafers clacking against tiled floors, wooden doors sliding open and closed to bear more and more bad news and medications, the steady _beep, beep, beep_ of the monitor and the nearly inaudible _drip, drip, drip_ of the IV amounts to no more than thirty decibels. It’s quiet enough that Changmin can hear his heart shattering like glass over the sounds of the hospital where Jaejoong lies in deep sleep, his small body finally having reached its limit. 

Changmin grips Jaejoong’s hand is both of his and kisses it over and over again, tears soaking both their skin. He knows this will be over soon but it’s the idea, the possibility of this being the last time that terrifies Changmin both day and night.

“Wake up,” he begs. “Just tell me you’ll be okay.”

A few days later, Jaejoong is all better. Just before he leaves he pins Changmin to the door of his hospital room and kisses him like fire—reckless and wild and hot.

“It’s okay if I’m frail and I have to go to the hospital sometimes, okay? But you. You are strong and beautiful and healthy and you will _never_ let yourself get this sick, do you understand me?”

“Hyung, that’s not—”

Jaejoong shuts him up with his tongue down Changmin’s throat and fists wound tight in Changmin’s shirt.

“I _said_ , do you understand me?”

Changmin tears up despite his best efforts and kisses the life out of Jaejoong. He was made for this. He was made to fall apart under Jaejoong’s command, his voice, and his hands. “I understand, okay. Fine. I’ll stay healthy. I promise.”

 

 

 

What most fans don’t know is that for all the laughter and talking that goes on during a broadcast, the studio is actually terribly quiet. Just twenty decibels. They have to have almost pin-drop silence for the voices of the cast to actually be recorded properly.

“Quiet on the set!” the director calls, and the boys straighten up in their seats and get ready for their nth interview of the week.

(But between scenes, Jaejoong will drag Changmin to the bathroom behind the set and watch Changmin sink to his knees and kiss his pretty, flushed cock while they struggle to make no sound at all).

 

 

 

In the pink evening light, they sit side by side under an old tree. A gentle wind like satin caresses their cheeks and causes the leaves to rustle at a hushed ten decibels, Changmin notes. Just enough to mask the sound of their slow, clinging kisses.

 

 

 

At zero decibels lies the threshold of hearing—the sound of Jaejoong breathing in and out as he sleeps. The sound of his heart under Changmin’s ear. The sound of their hands sliding together and never letting go.

And just below that threshold are the sounds that are never heard. The rush of blood through Jaejoong’s veins as Changmin shoots him a smile like the sun. The bending of his spine as Changmin takes him for the third time that night. The endorphins being produced at incredible rates when Changmin says “I love you” for the first time.

Changmin knows the measured volume of all the sounds in his daily life. So when Jaejoong touches him silently, when Jaejoong looks at him with eyes as wide as Changmin’s whole world, when Jaejoong smiles at him brighter than sunshine, Changmin realizes that love is not heard. Love, instead, is felt.

 

 

 

_”Changminnie, why do you know how loud everything is?”_

_“It was interesting to study.”_

_“Are you going to keep studying it?”_

_Changmin looks at Jaejoong, sprawled across the bed without a care in the world. “No, I think I’ve learned enough.”_

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i've been posting on livejournal for a few years now but it seems like a large portion of readers are now on ao3. i stubbornly clung to lj for as long as i could but i do want what i write to reach a larger audience than it seems to be reaching now, so i decided to give in and start posting here. i think i'll only post the works i'm more proud of on ao3, but all my works will be available @ http://keyhun.livejournal.com/ :)


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